Poprock Gren: Gold and Dark

Cold and dark. Poprock stood in the shadow of the manor. Or perhaps a memory of it. Translucent walls and doors not more than mist trailing into the void beyond. Some magic locked it in place, fighting against its nature to evaporate. And she was alone.

No. 

Not quite. 

Figures drifted in the dark. A shadow in a sunbrimmed hat hummed softly as it wandered past. A large figure full of wrath charged past into the void. And darker things lurked beyond. Malice and hatred. But nothing noticed her. 

She turned to leave and came face to face with a raven the size of a human. It stood just beyond the door. She could see every feather in the darkness. They shown with a faint gold against the shadow. It was the only thing to look solid in this place. And it was the only thing that regarded her. Though it seemed unsure of its place here.

"Hello?" Poprock addressed the creature as she stepped forward. She found her steps halted by a wall she could not see. Whatever force held the mist in this place seemed to keep her from leaving as well. 

"Can you help me? Please. There was something... Something I had to do." She couldn't remember why she had come here. It was important, but her thoughts seemed to dissipate like the mists in the walls.

The bird nodded as if responding to a voice  Poprock couldn't hear. It turned, gesturing for Poprock to follow. And with a shake of its wings, it took off. The warm gust of wind scattered its fallen feathers across Poprock, burning though whatever bound her here. She stepped through the door.

Poprock opened her eyes. Taking in the treetops above her. The dark forest yawned into an even darker sky. She heard a pop and hiss nearby. There must be a fire. And that smell. Someone was making soup. Her thoughts swam and for a moment she thought she was home. But as her senses came back to her, her gaze drifted upwards and the girl knelt at her head came into focus. She looked a mess. Hair askew and dress torn, draped in raven feathers and holding a ... WEAPON. Poprock shot up and scurried away. Hurling the first thing her fingers could find at the threat. A rock. She was sluggish. Her body didn't quite move like she was used to and she missed by a mile. The girl didn't move. 

Poprock took in her frozen and exhausted expression when she didn't pursue. Then she noticed the ravens feathers around her shoulders. The feather on the ground. The way her body felt heavier and not quite attached. She started to put two and two together. She had felt this before. But the last time she came back Mousse was there to... 

"Oh gods. MOUSSE!" She whipped her head  around, searching the woods for the creatures she remembered. She turned back to the girl. "They're vampires! We didn't.. Where are they? Tres Le-..." She paused. Placing her trembling hand on her throat, finding the faint scar that remained as the memories of the evening came rushing back. "What happened?" 

"I was hoping you could tell me."

Startled, Poprock whipped around, only now noticing the shadow clad figure sitting across from the girl. She took in her silver eyes, and dark markings and long pointed ears. Her elven circlet and regal features. The way the shadows seemed to cling to her despite the warm crackling fire. 

"Who are you?" Poprock asked. Her curiosity and wonder quickly enveloping her fear. Then remembering herself, she shook her head and smiled. "I'm sorry. That was incredibly rude. I'm Pop-" she clears her throat as if the words got caught. Nearly slipping. "Poprock Gren. And who might you be? I suppose I have you both to thank for bringing me back? I am truly grateful."

The dark elf ignored her question and continued on. "What happened to Mousse Gren? Where is she?"

The smile slid off Poprock's face. The leaden guilt and loss settling into her stomach. "Mousse is dead. The vampires invited us into their manor and she was the first one... They made an example out of her. Tore into her throat right in front of me. I tried to save her and attacked the Countess but she escaped. Next thing I knew my frie- one of the other dwarves took my dagger and... Well I didn't see much of what happened after... Mousse might have been saved... Someone could have come in and healed her while I was out, but... if you found me like that... I doubt it." She pauses, biting her lip as the tears welled up in her eyes. "She was always kind to me. I really did try."

The elf gazed down at her makeshift bowl of stew. "I'm sorry for your loss" her voice was bitter. She must have known Mousse. "What about the elf child? Where is the boy who traveled with Mousse?" Her voice nearly broke now. Of course she would care for the kid too. Who wouldn't? 

"Acorn? Oh gods. Acorn. Has anyone told him? He has already lost so much. To lose his mother again... Poor thing.  Last I saw him was nearly a year ago. This was the first time I had seen Mousse in that time too. I would imagine he's at home. Though I never knew where they lived. Mango would know. Or Struessel. Or Brulee.... Most of them were in Lullin. Mango was in the Manor with me. Do you think..? Did you see anyone else there? Did anyone escape? They must have, right?"

The elf handed her a bowl of stew and contemplated a moment before answering.

"I'm sorry. If your clansfolk were in Lullin, they're most likely dead. I saw no survivors."

Poprock took the stew, crestfallen. "Surely someone...  Wait." She remembers the acolyte who still hasn't said a word. "You brought me back. You could bring the rest back too right? The Grens could pay for it. We could go find them and-"

The girl looked terrified and exhausted. Barely able to even hold the bowl in her hands. She didn't even look up. 

"You could try," the elf muttered, "but you were probably the least... damaged of the dwarves I saw. You'd be hard pressed to get their bodies out of the town. Plus, those monsters are still stalking the streets of Lullin."

"Oh. They're still there. Of course." Poprock hesitated a moment, feeling the desperation rising. "But you got me out. You went all the way to the Manor and found me. What were you doing there? Why risk all of those things?" She paused. Knowing she was demanding answers from someone who had just gone through hell to bring her back. "You asked about Mousse. Did you know her?"

"Mousse Gren..." The elf spat, no longer hiding the vitriol she felt. She threw the remains of her meal onto the fire, causing it to spit angrily. In a few quick strides, she closed the distance between herself and the mute acolyte, snatching her dagger back and tucking it into her belt before turning back to Poprock. "Mousse Gren murdered my husband and stole my son. I would kill her myself if she weren't dead already. You've been helpful, Poprock, but know this... if you or any of your clan stand between me and the boy you call 'Acorn,' I will destroy what little remains of you."

"She... What?" Poprock rose from her place on the ground, soup still in hand. The elf was armed now and Poprock suddenly realized just how much she had let down her guard. The soup wasn't much of a weapon, but it was hot enough to hurt if you got a surprise face full. It would have to do in a pinch. It's not the first time she had been threatened. But her mind was reeling. "What do you mean she murdered your husband and took your son? She is one of the kindest people I have ever met. I know I haven't known her for long, but let's face it, murder isn't exactly her style either. What happened to make you so sure?"

"You might have known her now, but you didn't know her then. When I left home, she'd just arrived in town. And when I returned, everyone I knew was dead." The elf began gathering her belongings into a bundled pack, then headed for the canvas shelter, a the broken hatred evident in her voice. "At least, I thought they were all dead. Turns out, Mousse had made off with the only other survivor. I didn't even find out my boy was alive for years afterward. And I've been hunting Mousse Gren ever since."

Poprock was stunned. There was no way Mousse was responsible but this elf refused to see it. "So you don't know what happened. Seems more likely to me that she saved the boy and escaped whatever calamity befell your people."

The elf whirled back to Poprock. "The hell she did." She wrenched the guy ropes free from the canvas and gathered up her bedding. "It doesn't matter now anyway. If you don't know where my son is, I'm going to find someone else who does."

Poprock watched as she went through her saddle bags and packed things away.

It was clear the elf wasn't able to listen to reason right now. Maybe there was something to her story. Acorn was adopted after all. Though Poprock never heard the full story. But there was no way she was about to let some random woman get to Mousse's kid without getting all the facts straight. He was a Gren after all. She was starting to like them. And Poprock wasn't about to let another one get taken today. But the elf didn't need to know that.

"Alright. I need to find anyone here who can be saved first. Or at least see for myself that no one is left. Maybe someone will know where he is. Then I will look for the boy too. I owe it to Mousse to make sure her son is safe. She saved my life once. I wish to live up to that.

What may I call you should I find him first? How would I find you?"

"You can send a message for me through the Vell Traders,” she answered as she removed the rest of her belongings from the saddle. “My name is Moranin."

"Nice to meet you Moranin. Thank you again for bringing me back. Where will you go next?"

“I don't know yet. But I'm going to find out where those people are you mentioned - Struessel, Brulee, and Mango, right?" Poprock nodded, cringeing at hearing the information she so foolishly let slip. "I'm going to find out where they are, and I'm going to find out what they know." She swung her pack onto her shoulders and adjusted the straps.

"Best of luck to you." Poprock thought for a moment, then smiled as if remembering something. "You might try some of the mines far south of here. Last I heard there were some problems going on with production. Streussel would have gone down there to address the issue. He's a hands on type."

All of these were lies of course. But better to have this new person trust her than see her as an enemy. She didn't want Moranin to find Acorn first. Poprock knew the mines down south were very far away. It would buy her time to find the boy herself. She didn't know much about Streussel, but he was the only one of those three not in Lullin that night. Possibly the last Gren left alive. She doubted he dealt with the mining operations much, so hopefully he won't be anywhere near there.

Moranin gave a quick nod and approached the acolyte. "Thank you Priestess" she handed her what looked to be a map of some kind and bent down to whisper something in her ear. Poprock wasn't a fan of that. She didn't feel like the girl was much of a threat but she was wrong once today already. Clearly she had some amount of power if she managed to bring her back. She'll have to keep an eye on this one.

Moranin pulled her hood down as she straightened.

“And thank you, Poprock. I won't forget what you've said here today." 

Striding past her, Moranin snatched up the dwarven glaive that Poprock now recognized as Mango's. And, using it as a walking stick, silently disappeared through the trees. Poprock thought about saying something about who it belonged to but thought better of it. She knew where it would be should Mango need it again. 

One way or another this would not be the last she saw of Moranin. 

Poprock turned to the girl who, through all of this, still hadn't said a word. "Are you okay dear? Can you speak?" 

"Y-yes." She was hesitant. Like she didn't trust her own voice. 

Poprock knelt beside her. 

"You were there weren't you. I followed a Raven out of the mist. Was that you?" 

The mention of the Raven seemed to shake her from her reverie. "A raven? I saw you. You asked for help. But I didn't think..." 

"I don't know much about this kind of magic." Poprock intervened. "I don't understand it. But what you did was incredible. I cannot thank you enough for what you have given me." She paused a moment, taking a deep breath. "I hate to ask so soon, but could you do it again?"

"I don't... I don't know. You were the first I have ever returned by myself. At the temple, we could bring back more. The strain was shared between those involved. Or maybe being in a place blessed by the Raven Queen made it easier. But out here, by myself, there is.. a cost." She rubbed her thumb over her wrist. Poprock noticed for the first time the freshly healed scar that matched her own. She took in just how pale and tired this girl really was. 

"I won't ask you to do anything you don't want to. I know you have already given much. But people need your help if you are able. At least think about it?" The girl took a deep breath and looked back down at her stew. Poprock remembered her own bowl and realized just how hungry she was. "Come on. One way or another, you need rest. And food can only help." Taking a couple of bites for the first time since being handed the bowl, Poprock smiled at her companion. "You know. One thing I can say is that food is a luxury for the living."

After their meal, Poprock took stock of what the elf had left behind. A couple of days worth of supplies. Not a long time without more provions. They poured over the map and found the nearest town in addition to Lullin. They made a makeshift shelter since the canvas tent was gone now. 

Soon after Poprock made to leave for Lullin to see for herself if there was anything left. "I promise I won't bring back any bodies before I have heard your answer. The dead can wait. But the living won't last as long." As she turned to go, the bow the dark elf had left against the tree caught her eye. "Will wonders never cease..." That bow was hers. The elf must have picked it up outside the manor. She gave a wry smile as she mounted the horse. Maybe some stroke of luck was with her after all. 

In broad daylight, it was easy to see where the forest ended and the town began. A dark ashen cloud loomed overhead, plunging the area in eternal night. She left the horse at the outskirts and crept her way through town, keeping to the shadows and alleys. It was eerily quiet. The causes of the carnage seemed to have sought some sort of rest in the daylight. It wasn't long before she started finding bodies. She had hoped to find survivors in the mess, but Moranin was right. It didn't take a long inspection to know these people had no breath left in them. The carnage became more grotesque as she ventured deeper into the city. Bodies, or parts of them, were strewn about. The walls of a once lively town square now sprayed with blood. As if people were tossed like dog toys. Others were piled in heaps at the corners. Any survivors wouldn't be here. And she would need days to be able to match enough pieces to get even one full corpse to bring back.

As she turned to go,

One such heap moved. The deafening silence broken by a rattling breath. Poprock thought some kind of monstrous creature had gotten the jump on her. She hadn't found any arrows yet. But a stick was a stick. She swung her bow out of reflex towards it then stopped. She barely recognized his broken form. She could just make out the purple under all of the red in his tunic. The hammer in his hand. "Creme Brulee?" He didn't say anything. Maybe he couldn't. His eyes held so much pain. And wrath.

Poprock took a quick look around. She didn't see anything nearby. She crouched down in front of him and kept her voice low. "We can't stay here. I don't know if I can carry you. Can you stand?" She didn't wait for an answer. She had found what she had come for but she didn't trust her luck to hold for long. She hauled him to his feet. He wasn't steady by any means, but he seemed to be able to hold most of his weight. Then he took a step and buckled. Poprock looked down and saw the missing piece in his thigh. "Okay. We gotta do something about that. Hold on." Taking a quick look around she found a splintered sign with a couple of long enough boards for a splint and a tablecloth nearby could be worked into a strap to keep it together. As she began attaching it to his leg, she was careful to avoid as much of the wound as she could. But she realized it was smaller than before. As she watched she could see it knitting itself back together ever so slowly. Like time was rewinding on the parts of him that were damaged. "How..." She noticed now the remnants of the broken glowing bottles on his belt. Pieces of glass still lodged into his side. She knew these potions were slow. They weren't meant for major injuries. They weren't meant for this. Realization dawned on her face. "Oh Brulee... I'm so sorry. Come on. We have to go. We have to make this worth it. Try again." With the help of his hammer and Poprock's support they managed to sneak through town and back to the little camp where the acolyte waited. For the second time today the horse bore a bloodied mess to greet her. "He's not dead I promise!" Poprock said quickly before the girl could protest. Poprock tried to help Brulee off the horse, but the height proved more than she bargained for and he crumpled on top of her. "Tell me, do your powers only work with the dead or do you have some kind of healing capabilities too?”

In the days following, the two of them were able to dress Brulee's wounds and allow him to rest while his body took on a more natural pace of healing once the initial potions had worn off. When he was well enough to speak, she told him of her encounter with Moranin.

 A trip to the nearest town replenished their supplies and bought them time to explore the ruined city. And further explorations into Lullin yielded equipment. Poprock found her old weapons and a fair few others. She did not bother looking for the cursed dagger that ended her life. A few people had escaped and were found hiding or wandering the woods. A few more intact bodies were able to be returned to life with the help of the young Priestess. But it was taxing. She couldn't manage more than one a day, and the more destroyed the body was, the more a toll it took on her. 

Eventually even the vile creatures who made the mess in the city didn't want the decay in the streets. They had the remaining bodies tossed in a pit in a rotting orchard nearby. 

The greater in number Poprocks little camp grew, the more she knew they couldn't stay long. They would be found eventually and there was little left to find in the ruined town. So the night before the group was to leave this place, Poprock went to the orchard to say goodbye. She wasn't sure what the dwarven rituals for the dead were. But growing up, her people always buried a seed with their goodbyes. Something to grow in place of something that was lost. She doubted any life could sustain itself in this place of decay. But she planted some seeds in hopes that one day this cursed place would see the light again. Apple, cherry, poppies. She covered them with dirt, whispered a prayer to whatever might listen, and dribbled some water over them from her wineskin. She sat for a moment gazing out at the moldering orchard. The ash had settled on the leaves and branches, hiding what little green remained. It was still now. She stood and brushed her pants off before turning to go. Then the trembling began. The ground shook beneath her feet. She whirled around and looked to the center of the orchard where something new was growing rapidly. Vines and roots writhed and twisted, rising into a column of earth, and leaf, and wood. As the ground trembled, the settled ash plumed from the trees, obscuring Poprock’s view of this new creation. When the air cleared again, the orchard shone a bright geen. The column of branches stood parted and open. And a figure emerged. A dwarven figure with a living mantle of leaves and fruit. 

"Mango??”